


That's Not What Friends Do

by MoraLeeWright



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Prompt Fic, The Ackermans aren't good with emotions, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Prompt, levimika - Freeform, rivamika, rivamika weekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 14:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14334882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoraLeeWright/pseuds/MoraLeeWright
Summary: She wasn’t naïve, of course their relationship had changed. But what she had with the captain was no different from what she had with Commander Hange or Jean or any of the other soldiers she’d fought and bled beside.Until it was.





	That's Not What Friends Do

It really was all his fault.

She wasn’t naïve, of course their relationship had changed, evolved; The old acrimony between Humanity’s Strongest and the girl worth a hundred soldiers had given way to something akin to respect, a mutual understanding of sorts.

Her familial bond with Armin and Eren aside, what she had with the captain was no different from what she had with Commander Hange or Jean or any of the other soldiers she’d fought and bled beside.

Until it was.

She remembered the exact moment it changed, too. Relatively speaking it wasn’t all that significant—nothing was said, there was no profound action or occurrence.

He just…smiled.

Sure, Captain Levi cracking a smirk wasn’t exactly a frequent occurrence, but it wasn’t like the usually stoic man had suddenly thrown his head back and guffawed. It lasted maybe a second, partially hidden behind the rim of his teacup, and nobody seated at the table seemed to be paying attention anyway.

But Mikasa felt like he’d slammed his fist straight into her chest.

He was smirking at her, something she had said. It wasn’t supposed to be funny, wasn’t even a joke–Hell, she couldn’t even remember _what_ she’d said, probably just some snide remark under her breath in response to a dumb comment someone had made.

Yet, he’d heard it. Locked eyes with her for the briefest of moments.

It was easy to brush aside the funny feeling in her gut as the side effects of too much to drink, and Mikasa managed to talk herself out of her troubling thoughts by the following morning. She didn’t see the captain for a few days after that, anyway, and soon the incident was nothing but a blurry sensation that she kept tucked away deep within the corner of her mind.

“I didn’t realize you and Heichou had gotten so close.”

Mikasa had nearly snorted her stew out her nose at Eren’s comment during lunch. Apparently, she’d called the captain by his first name when they were training. Neither of them had even registered this except for Eren. Levi had addressed Mikasa in this way many times, as he did with several other subordinates, but no one would dare to even think this gave them the go-ahead to reciprocate.

It was here that Mikasa really was forced to analyze where she stood with her captain. Because he _was_ her captain. Nothing more. Except that the fluttering in her belly was happening with more frequency, even to the point where someone would need only _mention_ him and she could feel it.

So, because analyzing emotions had never been her strong suit to begin with, Mikasa decided to address the issue head on.

Finding the right moment wasn’t difficult—they had taken to sparring together after hours when no one was around—and it wasn’t like she needed to make a big speech, but even the thought of a passive comment on the matter was enough to keep her up at night for _hours._

Many a sparring session went by without her uttering a peep before she was finally able to gather her courage.

“We’re…ok, right?”

Not that she’d rehearsed something, but that had been _nowhere_ near as eloquent as she’d hoped to be.

Levi didn’t pause the task of wrapping his hands, didn’t even look at her as he spoke. “Wasn’t aware we weren’t, brat.”

By now, the nomenclature had become the closest thing to a term of endearment Levi was capable of giving. It should have reassured her, answered her question. She should have stopped there.

”I mean, we’re…friends…” She hated how juvenile she sounded, how timid, and when his gray eyes snapped up to look at her she instantly regretted even speaking. ”...right?”

Levi had stopped wrapping now, the remaining gauze clutched loosely in his calloused hands as he regarded her with an inscrutable expression. ”Is that what you want?”

 _Oh, for the love of Maria._ What did that mean? Was he testing her? She turned her attention to her own wraps in an attempt to make the whole thing seem less awkward and more like she was conducting a casual conversation.

”It’s not a matter of what I want,” she said with a shrug, finding her voice once again. ”I was just clarifying where we stood; I’m not exactly an expert when it comes to friends.”

”And you think I am?” He was dry, very dry, and distinguishing the jokes from the jabs had taken Mikasa a while. Now she didn’t even need to look at him to know. She smirked.

“Touché.”

When her captain didn’t show up for their next sparring match or the one after it, she got the impression he was avoiding her. Immediately she assumed she’d somehow insulted him by asking if he, her superior and a man she’d said more spiteful things to than good, was considered her friend. Perhaps she wasn’t as good at discerning his humor as she’d thought.

Idiot.

The third time he failed to show she all but assumed their days of sparring together—a pastime she’d been looking forward to every third day with more enthusiasm than she cared to let on—were over. Because of this, Mikasa found herself with absolutely nothing to do one muggy Thursday night, a time she normally would have been heading toward the training room.

The feeling of having no agenda, no obligation, was so foreign to her that she decided to clean something—anything—just to give herself a task.

The irony that _cleaning_ had been the first idea to come to mind was not lost on her.

He found her in the ordnance depot polishing and organizing the ODM gear. It wasn’t a fruitless task—whoever had actually been assigned to the chore earlier in the day had done a terrible job—but eventually she found herself futzing more than working, repeating certain steps. He watched her from his position against the doorframe. She pretended not to know he was there.

“Mikasa.”

It wasn’t the use of her name but rather the gentle timbre of his voice that made her finally look at him. His expression was unreadable, as always.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” She’d never been one for subtlety.

“I needed some time to gather my thoughts.”

“Are they gathered?”

“Just about.”

He looked like some kind of predator standing there in the shadows, his gray eyes glinting in the torchlight, and she found it difficult to look at him for once. She finished unloading a box of new blades, using the distraction to avoid looking at him.

“And here I thought we were friends.” It was an offhanded remark, blithe—her attempt at humor, to relieve some of the stifling tension in the windowless room. When did it get so warm in here?

“No, I don’t think we are.” The first hint of an emotion revealed itself in his voice, and it sounded a lot like exasperation. Mikasa forced herself to meet his gaze but found he was no longer looking at her. His jaw was tense, clenching and unclenching while his eyes studied some point on the floor between them.

Ah, yes, she had offended him. Mikasa felt her face heat up in shame. She’d gotten so comfortable with their routine, so relaxed in the dynamic, that she’d completely forgotten her place in all this. He was her superior, her captain. If there was one thing she’d learned about Levi it was that he favored order, be that in rank or cleanliness, and the slightest variance bothered him greatly.

She made a point to step away from the rack of blades and face him head on, hoping he could see her contrition. “Captain, I’d forgotten myself, I owe you an—”

He held up a hand to silence her. “I don’t think _friends_ make it a point to spar twice a week together.” His voice was almost as deep as the shadows he lingered in, his slate eyes once more pinning her where she stood.

No, of course they didn’t, he was right. “I’m sorry—”

“I haven’t had many people in my life that I’ve considered friends, but out of the few who’ve met that criterion...” Levi pressed away from his position against the doorway, his eyes never leaving hers. “...I’m pretty sure I never thought about them as much as I think about you.”

Oh.

Mikasa gaped at him, mouth working dumbly as she struggled for a response. “...captain—”

“Don’t.” He was walking over to her now, his steps slow and deliberate. “Don’t call me that. You’ve said my name before, so don’t backtrack now.” He was close enough to touch, and her fingers itched to reach out and do so. She could _feel_ the heat coming off of his body. The butterflies were back, fluttering like mad in her belly.

He was gauging her, she could tell, waiting to see what she would do, his eyes roaming over her entire face, her mouth. Levi, a man who kept his cards close to his chest, had come forward and shown her his entire hand. He’d made his move. Now it was hers.

“No, you’re right.” She managed to get a handle on her voice, and was relieved when it came out steady. Her pulse thundered in her ears. “Friends don’t do those things.” Mikasa felt very much like she did right before a spar—a live wire, full of energy and ready to burst.

Levi was unmoving before her, unbreathing, and she could feel that same energy rolling off of him in waves. With one more step he was in her space, and she could smell tea and fresh laundry. The fluttering turned into a searing ache.

Levi’s voice was a murmur, deep and breathless. “Friends don’t do this either.”

And then he was kissing her, his mouth hot and sweet against her own. Mikasa didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around his strong shoulders, feeling the muscles of his back and neck, fingers tangling in the dark hair on his head.

She gave an experimental tug on the soft strands and a throaty moan escaped him. He pressed into her then, and nearly backed her into the rows of air canisters she’d just spent the last hour organizing. She gasped against his mouth—partly in surprise but also because he’d just run his tongue over her lower lip—before pressing into his chest to keep from falling over. He pulled away from her mouth but kept her body clutched against his, their breath mingling as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“More than friends,” Mikasa panted, clutching the fabric of his jacket in her fists. If he minded that she was wrinkling the material he didn’t say.

“Mikasa…” His voice was soft again, searching, and he suddenly looked much younger than his years as he gazed into her eyes.

She placed a finger against his parted mouth, feeling the softness of his lips, quieting him. “We can figure it all out at a later time.” She carded her other hand through his hair, and he closed his eyes at the sensation. “But right now you better take me out of here before we undo all the hard work I put into organizing this damn place.”

Levi smirked against her finger—that same quirk of the mouth from before that had started this whole thing—and he slowly opened his eyes to her. “Well, we wouldn’t want that,” he murmured, and his tone sent another keen ache through her.

He stepped away from her then, and she immediately wished to pull him back. He adjusted his cravat and smoothed out the lapels of his jacket before taking her hand in his and leading her from the room.

And Mikasa couldn’t remember anymore whose fault this all was. All she knew was she’d willingly take the fall for it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the RivaMika Weekend "More Than Friends" prompt on Tumblr by rivamikaevents. For those of you who have been reading my RivaMika story, The Song Remains The Same, I haven't abandoned you--just needed a creative break to stretch ye olde writing muscles with a bit of fluff. Needless to say, this is completely unrelated to TSRTS.
> 
> Special thanks to Macy for her AMAZING artwork she did on this fic. Seriously, you are GIFTED, woman. Check out her art on Tumblr at ask-secretrivamika


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